George Cooper Beginnings
by ladymori
Summary: The story of how George Cooper became the King of the Thieves. A long series, starting when he's 11.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the following characters, but I do take liberties with them. (Which sounds dirty..) Later on, I will have my own characters, but not in this chap. This chappie is all Tamora Pierce.

**Summary:** How George Cooper became the King of the Thieves. The first part in a very long planned series.

The worn wooden door slammed against the side of the house with a bang, but the boy didn't even slow down to look. Leaping over the small flowerbeds, he continued to flee. A moment later, his cause was apparent. After throwing open the door, much like the boy had done, a tall woman stood illuminated in the doorway. Raising her hand and her voice, she called into the dusky twilight, "George Cooper! You come back here right now!" When her call received no answer, she shook her head. "The boy moves fast, I'll give him that." Instead of anger, there was almost a detectable note of pride in the woman's voice. A small grin playing on her lips, the woman turned back into the house, closing the door behind her much more delicately than she had opened it.

Making her way through the darkened house, Eleni Cooper sighed when she reached the small kitchen. Lighting a branch of candles, she looked at the newly illuminated disaster. Broken plates littered the floors, fallen fruits oozed onto the wood, and pottery shards threatened every footstep. Lying on the middle of the floor was the remains of their kitchen table, broken in half by her over exuberant son. Stooping to move the table out of the way, she absently wondered how he had managed to break it. The wood was sturdy, the table strong. Shrugging her maroon covered shoulders, she decides that she'll never know.

As she began to clean up, she thought about the maker of the mess. George was eleven years old and no stranger to trouble. _He's not a bad child_, _he's just at that restless age_ she reassured herself as she scrubbed fruit remains off the floor. _I'm hardly home and he hasn't got a father figure. _George's father had died when he was only two; it was doubtful that he even remembered that his father had existed.Sweeping the floor with a critical eye to make sure she didn't miss anything, Eleni silently wished that George would soon make friends to keep him out of mischief.

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George Cooper ran through the streets of the Lower City, already crowded with nighttime visitors. Not for the first time that day, he thanked the gods for the Sight. His magical ability had helped him sense his ma's arrival, giving him enough time to escape. It wasn't his ma's anger he feared, after a few hours Eleni would forget that George had even broken the kitchen table. She would probably force him to work on fixin' the table, a chore he wouldn't mind doing tomorrow. Tonight, however, he wanted to run. The great city of Corus often cured his appetite for adventure.

Especially lately, since he had discovered a new game. The commoners of Corus had been unruly as of late, prompting King Roald to issue more and more guards to patrol the city at nighttime. George could entertain himself for hours running down the streets trying to avoid them. Getting closer, watching them, but slipping into the shadows when they turned his way. It was a way of testing out the Sight; seeing how strong his gift really was. Besides that, it helped him get better at sneaking around. He could now walk down an entire street without making a noise. As soon as he thought it, George's foot kicked an old barrel, sending it rolling down the alleyway. Cursing silently, he fought down a rising blush. _Almost no noise_, he corrected himself guiltily.

The young boy stopped under the window of a closed dressmaker's shop to adjust his boot; kicking the barrel had pulled his footwear halfway off. A torch placed above the window shone light on the small boy. At a few inches over 5 feet, George was tall for his age and growing. As of yet, he hadn't filled in his new height; he was still all limbs- his ma compared him to a newborn colt on numerous occasions.

Suddenly George straightened. He felt the prickling sensation in his mind that meant someone was near him. He closed his eyes and strained to focus his Sight. As he focused, sweat rolled down his forehead. He really needed to practice more- out of all the abilities the Sight gave him, sensing people was what troubled him the most. He would ask his ma for help, she was a mage, but she was never home. Eleni was always busy healin' and being a midwife for the people of the Lower City. Straining, he continued to search around him for the source of the feeling. There! A glimmer of something to his right. Reaching out with his mind, he followed with his feet as the pull grew stronger.

Hefting himself over a short fence, George jumped into an alley that mirrored the street he was just walking. A hunched figure was bent over the door to a successful jeweler's shop. He could hear the _click click_ of metal- probably lock picks. What a great opportunity! This figure wasn't one of the King's guard, and because of that, he was perfect for testing his skills. He began to sneak closer to the figure, resting his weight on the balls of his feet. His boots didn't even scuffle, a fact that made George beam with pride- he was getting better.

Concentrating on moving silently, George didn't notice the puddle of questionable liquid in front of him until it was too late. Halfway across the distance, his feet slid out from under him and he crashed to the flagstones. The figure jumped up, dropping his lock picks and brandishing a dagger. Only when his eyes rested on George and he started towards him, did the boy realize how potentially dangerous it could be to sneak up on a thief.

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**A/N:** Hey I have a trademark! (The 'GGGG' section dividers. :-P) Well, thats the end of part one. Lots of reviews! Go, now! Hurry! heh heh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Same as before. If you recognize it, it's property of Tamora Pierce. Anything new, is all mine.

**Summary:** How George Cooper became the King of the Thieves. A very long series.

**A/N:** I had to reload this, because I changed a few things around. You might want to re-read it. Also, thanks for all your reviews! I really appreciate them. :-)

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Dagger raised, the thief advanced on George. Adjusting his grip, he threatened, "I really didn't want t' kill anyone tonight."

Scrambling to stand up, George replied, "Well, don't do it if it t'will make ye unhappy."

The thief let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Come into the light," he commanded, his voice softer than before. A normal person would have tried to flee, but George didn't. Strangely, he got a good feeling from this thief, and his ma had always told him to follow his instincts. Listening to what his Sight told him, George stepped into the torchlight.

The thief pushed back his hood revealing the face of a young man in his early twenties. His gray eyes were full of mirth and laugh lines creased around them. The same lines were present on the corners of his mouth. His dark skin, lighter than a Bazhir tribesman, was crossed with scars. Dark black hair was tied back in a horsetail.

As George looked the man over, he knew the thief inspected him in return with even more care. Finally the man smiled. "Why, ye aren't nothin' but a boy!"

George's skin flushed with anger. "I'm not a boy! I'm eleven! And nearly twelve," he exclaimed with indignation.

The man held up hands. "I'm not insulting ye lad. But t'isn't it late to be out? Shouldn't ye be at the castle, sleepin' for page training tomorrow?"

George dropped his gaze from the thief's, dragging his boot toe on the ground, tracing the patterns his wet footprints had left. He was eleven; most boys started page training at ten. But the only boys who were even allowed in the castle were rich, with titles and property. George had none of that and didn't want it. All of the boys in the Lower City were as poor as he was, but they still dreamed of being knights. Until this moment, George had never wanted a shield, a fact that got him ill looks from the rest of the children of the Lower City and left him alone more than naught. "I don't go t' training," he mumbled, still looking at his feet. He didn't know why, but he wanted to make a good impression on this thief.

The thief let out another laugh. "Lad, I haven't even been in th' castle. It's nothin' to be ashamed of. My father was a Bazhir, an' the good folk in Corus don't seem to forget it. Here, go keep watch." George was delighted with this turn of events and ran to the edge of the alley. Satisfied that he was in a good position, the thief got back to work on breaking into the jewelers.

"So, what's yer name?" the thief called to him softly as he concentrated on the picks in his hand.

Craning his head outside of the alley, he quickly scanned the street both ways before turning to watch the man. "George Cooper," he shouted back, struggling to keep his voice down. "And yers?"

"Kaelem. It's Bazhir," he clarified as the jeweler's door clicked open. He quickly gave George a wolfish grin, baring his teeth, before he added, "Besides, mostly folks call me 'One Eye'."

George was about to ask him how he had earned such a name, since both of his eyes were intact, when a prickling sensation filled his mind. Someone was near them, and approaching fast. Closing his eyes, George strained to focus his Sight; it was even harder than it had been earlier. He wasn't strong enough to handle more than two run-ins so close together. The advancing person was large and blobby, and George could almost make out three individual human heads before they blended together. As the shapes came closer, they separated. Definitely three humans, tall and broad shouldered. Their bodies were colored a dark blue in George's Sight, the color of King Roald's new enforcers.

George's eyes flew opened and he ran down the alley, boots slapping on the stone and all thoughts of moving silently forgotten. One Eye looked up from where he was collecting his picks, preparing to begin looting the jewelers. "What's th' matter with ye boy?" he asked, an uneasy look on his face.

George skidded to a stop in front of him. "Royal guards. Three of them. Coming this way!" he gasped. Already tired from using his Sight, running had made his head pound and lungs burn. Leaning over, George rested his hands on his thighs and tried to stave off dizziness. After a few seconds of terse silence, he felt a hand on his back.

"Are ye sure lad?" George looked up and nodded. One Eye studied him carefully before reaching out to help him stand straight.

"Ye can breathe easier if ye stand up." George nodded his thanks. One Eye took a deep breath. "Where are they, and how close are they?"

George pointed down the alley, towards the street he had been on earlier. "They'll be at th' fence within moments."

One Eye cursed. Even in his state of panic, George filed it away as one to remember. The thief turned and stared down the alley, before glancing back at George. _He doesn't believe me!_ George thought, panicked. He opened his mouth to speak again when One Eye held up a hand. "Hush, lad," he whispered. George quieted. A few moments later he heard what One Eye already had- the rhythmic pounding of marching. The guards were coming fast.

George's stomach twisted. He enjoyed playing with the guards, but getting caught with a thief and a swindled jeweler's shop was not his idea of fun. His ma would never let him out of her sight again. The sick feeling in his stomach doubled. Forget his ma; the Lord Provost would make sure he would never walk the streets again!

One Eye noticed the panic on his face. "Don't ye worry, lad. I'll get ye out of this safely." He rested his hand briefly on George's shoulder before he bent to pick up his fallen lock picks.

"Why?" George was thankful that the thief wanted to help him, but he didn't understand it. Why he was being so kind, especially since most would have killed George when he had first stumbled upon them?

Pushing his hair back from his face as he stood, One Eye thought it over before he answered. "I like ye, ye've got potential. But that potential is gonna be wasted if we don't get out of here now."

Potential for what, George wanted to ask, but he didn't get the chance. One Eye took off down the alley, and George ran to keep up.

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**A/N:** Review review! I'll get chapter three up as soon as I can, thieves honor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Most is Tammy's, some is mine. This is not for profit, but for my own enjoyment. And hopefully yours too. :-)

**Summary:** How George Cooper became the King of the Thieves

**A/N:** Thanks for all of your reviews! They make me feelall warm and fuzzy inside. And don't worry, I take into consideration everything you guys say. Now onto part 3.

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George hurried to catch up to One Eye; he was slower than the thief and the distance between them was growing.

A shout echoed down the alley- they had been spotted. He resisted the urge to turn around when he heard the thumps that let him know the guards had vaulted over the fence. The clanging of metal told him the guards were following, and George struggled with himself. He wanted to know how far back they were, how much time he had.

George gave into the temptation, just for a moment. The guards struggled to run in their heavy plate armor, but they were coming faster than he had thought possible. George turned back around and pumped his legs harder, willing himself to move quicker. One Eye was at the mouth of the alley, what if he left him?

"Stop in the name of the Crown!" a voice cried over thundering footsteps.

"Lad, run!" One Eye shouted to him. George struggled. He was so tired; his knees threatened to give out at any second, but he didn't slow down.

He was almost there! Stretching out his free hand, George reached for One Eye's open palm. Just as the thief was about to take it and pull him to safety, George was jerked backwards. Arms spiraling, he struggled for balance. One of the guards, faster than his companions, had caught up to him.

George clawed desperately at the hands that grasped his tunic, but it was no use. The man pressed a sword edge against his throat and growled into his ear, "I've got ye now laddy." George's heart stopped, and he wrenched his head away. Suddenly a whistling noise sliced thought the air and the pressure on George's collar lessened before disappearing completely.

George rubbed the area on his neck chafed by his rough tunic as he turned to see what had happened. The guard lay on the ground, dagger through his heart. His eyes were glassy and his face was pale. _He's dead,_ George realized. _Dead._ He absentmindedly continued to rub at his neck as he looked down at the man's body. The world slowed down, time seemed to cease moving. George should have been worried about the oncoming guards, they were even angrier now that one of their own had fallen. And even though he knew he should, he couldn't care about One Eye, or the fact that the dagger buried deep in the dark blue tunic was most likely his. All he could see was the man laying at his feet.

"Lad, snap out of it!" The words took their time to reach his consciousness, and even then it was moments before George reacted. He looked up sluggishly. One Eye was at his side, new dagger ready in his hand. The thief grabbed him tightly around his upper arm and took off down the alley, pulling George behind him. George's body had no choice but to react. Either his feet moved, or they would be dragged. As George's steps took him farther away from the body, his thoughts became clearer.

"Sorry," he grunted as he and One Eye skidded around the corner, feet sliding on the flagstones.

"Apologize later, live now," One Eye told him in a quick breath. At the mouth of the alley they had turned left down the street, but now they saw that two of King Roald's soldiers ran down the middle, scaring men and women indoors.

"I can't fight them," One Eye muttered under his breath. His grip on George's upper arm tightened. "Lad, don't let me be wrong about you. C'mon." George found himself being propelled in the opposite direction. A fleeting thought crossed his mind- he didn't have an inkling about where they were going. Did he really trust One Eye? Mentally, he shrugged. He'd choose the thief over the guards any day, and it wasn't like he could get away from the man's iron grip.

The pair continued to flee.

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Over fences, down alleys, over rooftops- One Eye led George down a long and twisting path away from danger. Since One Eye was pulling him along, George used the time to watch his surroundings and try to memorize what they passed. Crossing the roof of a bakers, jumping down onto the barrels in a wine seller's back alley, it was more adventure in one night than George had had in his life.

After an hour's run, they had reached their destination. One Eye released George's arm and stood, staring up at the building with a look of pride on his face. George was confused. They were in front of a shabby wooden inn, but One Eye looked at it as if it was a palace.

"Where are we?" he asked softly. He didn't know if he should be quiet or not, but there was a feeling of importance in the air and he felt it would be appropriate.

One Eye looked down and him and clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, lad, this is our castle. A throne for the thieves of Corus." He opened the door and disappeared inside the inn.

George followed him slowly, hazel eyes wide. As he pulled open the worn wooden door after One Eye, he noticed a fading sign hung above his head. In peeling gold letters, it read "The Dancing Dove."

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**A/N:** Review please. :-) Next part will be coming sooner then last time, I hope. Review review! (And I hope you liked it!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** George Cooper and the Dancing Dove are Tammys. The other characters and ideas are mine.

**Summary:** How George became the King of the Thieves

**A/N:** Sorry it took me so long to update, the computer with the story on it broke and I didn't want to rewrite it. Well, here it is, and it's extra long. Sorry again. :-)

Also, **BIG** thanks to **Winna** for beta reading this for me. :-D

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George backed up against the door, entirely overwhelmed as he watched the main room. The Dancing Dove was full - full of people, full of sound, even full of smells- there was an overabundance of alcohol, food, and perfume. His senses were reeling.

Over the roar of the room, he thought he heard his name being called. Tearing his eyes away from a quickly escalating game of dice, he searched for One Eye. When their eyes met, the older thief waved him over before turning back to his companion. George hesitated a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing himself off the door.

He struggled to make his way over to One Eye. The thief was standing on the far side of the Inn, leaning against a long table. Dodging around a giggling girl perched upon a drunken man's lap, George paused to watch as a fistfight between two men broke out next to him. When the flurry of fists came near him, he ducked and realized, too late, that that wasn't the ideal place to watch. Especially since a large crowd had formed in a ring around the pair, tossing George from side to side, pushing him closer to the fighting men. He turned and squeezed his way through the mass of bodies, trying not to get hit as they cheered on their friends.

Letting out a relieved breath, he saw light through the dark breeches, tunics, and dresses. One Eye and his companion hadn't even moved from their spot. Panting slightly, he reached them and smiled.

One Eye grinned back, correctly interpreting George's expression- it looked like the lad had just had the time of his life. "Who's winnin'?" he asked casually.

"I couldn't tell," the boy replied. "It was just a blur of colors and curses." The tone in his voice implied how impressed he was and One Eye's friend laughed.

"They sure know a lot of colorful language in the Dove, I'll give 'em that." George turned and stared at the man who spoke. Tall, with a commanding stature, he smiled easily down at him. Dirty blonde hair was cropped close to his head, revealing a single black eardrop that hung from his right earlobe. While his dark blue eyes seemed to study him, George got the impression that the man watched the entire room as well. Underneath his navy blue shirt and black breeches, George recognized the faint lines of daggers- commoners weren't allowed to wear weapons openly.

"This is Talek," One Eye introduced the man. "I've been telling him about ye. How ye saved my skin back in th' alley."

George felt his cheeks flame. "T'was nothin'," he proclaimed.

"T'was somethin' all right," One Eye retorted.

Uncomfortable discussing his warning, and more than curious, he turned to Talek. "Are ye a thief too?"

Talek chuckled. "I'm jus' a poor man, here for a mug of ale."

George frowned at his reply. Another one of the abilities his Sight gave him was the gift of sensing lies, and every word Talek just said was a falsehood. "Are ye sure yer not a thief?" he asked again, giving him a chance to tell the truth.

Talek raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure." He looked at One Eye, a warning apparent in his face. "Ye might want to watch this one's mouth." He jerked his thumb in George's direction.

One Eye nodded. "And?" He looked uncomfortably at George, and George got the distinct impression that he was trying to ask something without actually saying the words.

Narrowing his dark blue eyes, Talek studied him from head to toe. Finally he nodded. "You know where to find me," he told the thief before he turned and walked off into the crowded room.

George gave One Eye a questioning glance, but the thief just grabbed two mugs that were sitting on the long table. "I bought ye a lemonade, I figured ye were too young for ale." He nodded and took the mug- his ma would kill him if she ever found out he had been drinkin'.

Following One Eye over to a small table in the corner, he accepted the fact that his new friend wasn't going to tell him what had just gone on. But he had another worry. Taking a sip of his lemonade, he considered his words carefully, a rare feat for a boy so young. He set his tankard down with a thump, spilling the liquid onto the well-worn wood. "That man- Talek. Who is he really?"

One Eye set down his ale carefully, gray eyes shadowed. "He's jus' a man, lad. No one important."

At first he had thought that Talek was lying to One Eye too, but George could sense the lie in what he had just heard. "No," he told him stubbornly. "He lied. Jus' like yer doin' now." Besides, he already knew Talek was important.

Reaching up to scratch his head, One Eye studied him carefully. "Why are ye so sure we're lyin'?"

George said nothing, looking down and tracing the rim of his tankard with his finger. He didn't want to tell him about his Sight just yet. "I've jus' got a notion," he said finally.

Thankfully, One Eye decided not to press it any further. "I trust ye, lad, but there are some things ye can't know, at least not yet. I promise I'll tell ye whatever ye want to know about Talek when th' time is right."

If he wasn't taking a big swig of lemonade, he would have smiled. Every word One Eye had just said was the truth.

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The boy and the thief talked long after their respective drinks were gone. George learned more of One Eye's life as a lock picker, and in return, told him about his life with his ma. They didn't even realize how late it had grown until George yawned in the middle of a story about falling through his neighbor's roof. They were both surprised to find out it was a little past the midnight hour.

One Eye waved a barmaid over, and she hurried to clean off their table. It was then George realized that he didn't have any coin. "Don't worry about it lad." The thief told him as he dropped two copper pieces into the barmaid's apron, trying to snag her around the waist. Giving him a wink, and muttering about "scoundrels", she sauntered off to another table. The black haired man leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands over his stomach. "I want ye t' come back soon," he said thoughtfully. "I'll bring ye home. Can ye remember how t' get back t' th' Dove?"

Running his finger over a deep knife groove in the table, George nodded. "When I first started explorin' th' Lower City, I used t' get lost. So I've learned t' remember landmarks and things."

There was a confusing emotion on One Eye's face as he stood up and clasped a hand on George's shoulder. "The Trickster God was smilin' on me when he introduced us. But, nay, it's time to get ye home to yer ma, we'll walk slow so you can try and memorize th' way."

Reluctantly, George pushed back his chair and let One Eye guide him through the throngs of people to the door. His ma was not going to be happy, and even if the Trickster God was smiling down on them, he was not eager to get home.

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**A/N:** And that's the end of part 4. Please **review**. :-D

I promise that I'll update more quickly next time- I already started writing it.

Go. Review Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Tammy's. I only own One Eye.

**Summary:** How George Cooper became the King of the Thieves

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long- I was out of town for a week. Thanks to Winna for beta reading.

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Too tired to check with his Sight, George assumed his ma was in bed as he pulled open their back door. Thankfully his ma had left it unlocked for when he decided to come home.

Walking on his toes, he softly made his way through the darkened rooms to the staircase. Easing himself onto the first stair, he shifted his weight carefully, attempting to avoid a creak. The stair emitted a whispered groan, and he moved on, repeating the process. Finally he reached the top of the staircase. It had taken him three times longer than normal,but at least he had made it up quietly.

He pushed open his bedroom door, eager to throw himself onto his bed- he was exhausted. Unfortunately his bed was already occupied.

Eleni Cooper sat on the worn coverlet, attired in a cotton nightdress and holding a lit candle stub. It was not a welcoming sight.

"Do you know what time 'tis?" she demanded.

He faltered. "Yes-"

"Oh?" she interrupted him. "So you _knew _it was long past midnight, yet you decided to stay out anyways?" The question held a challenge and George thought carefully before he answered.

"I lost track of th' time, and as soon as I found out, I hightailed it back home. I knew ye'd be worried, and I didn't want that." He cast his eyes downwards, but looked up after a moment to see her reaction.

Eleni's mouth remained stern, but the edges of her eyes crinkled, as if she was holding back a smile. "I don't need the Sight to tell that you're lying." She stood up and set a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you're not hurt, so I suppose there was no harm done. But next time, be home before midnight or let me know where you're going. Elsewise I'll find you myself."

George smiled his thanks and flopped onto his now empty bed.

His ma, however, wasn't finished. She hovered by the door. "Oh. The kitchen table still needs fixing, so I'll be waking you up at sunrise."

He groaned and rolled over, pulling the coverlet over his head.

Eleni let out a chuckle, but her son was already asleep.

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True to her word, Eleni woke George up as soon as the first hint of light peaked over the horizon.

A hard biscuit clutched in one hand and a hammer in the other, he sat on their kitchen's wooden floor. The table lay in front of him and his ma leaned against the wall, watching him expectantly. He hungrily bit into the biscuit, eating it in two bites. Wiping the crumbs on his dark blue breeches, he picked up a nail.

After he hammered in the first one, he stuck a few between his lips, making them easier to grab. This method helped him keep up a constant stream of work, so much so that he didn't even hear the knocking on the back door over the bang of the tool.

He stopped his work to gather more nails to put in his mouth and heard the mumblings of his mother and someone else. Shrugging, he went back to hammering- he was halfway done fixing the table and he couldn't wait to finish.

A warm hand covered his own, preventing him from continuing. "That was Mistress Kaulao. Her son Cherno is running a dangerously high fever."

George moved his hand away and set down his hammer. Cherno, older than George by nearly four years, had always made fun of the size of his nose. He did not mind that he was ill.

Already Eleni was reaching into the cupboards, collecting various herbs and bottles, packing them tightly in a worn basket. "I must see to him," she told him distractedly. "I'll be back as soon as I can." George rolled his eyes- his ma could be gone anywhere from an hour to three days.

She was almost out the door before she poked her head back in. "Finish the table and keep out of trouble." George scrunched up his face at her, and she did the same before disappearing, door clattering shut behind her.

He stared dejectedly at the wood and nails in front of him. Already the familiar feeling of loneliness was settling in. Suddenly a thought caused him to brighten. He wouldn't have to spend the day by himself- he could go to the Dancing Dove to see One Eye. Thoroughly cheered up, he resumed hammering, his brows furrowed in concentration as he hurried to finish the job.

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Slightly out of breath and sporting several new bruises and scrapes, he arrived at the Dancing Dove. It had taken him a while to find his way- he had accidentally taken a few wrong turns into unfriendly territories, but he had made it in the end.

He reached out to open the door. but pulled back his hand as if the wood burned him. "You don't even know if One Eye is there," part of him whispered evilly. He ignored the voice but he did self-consciously attempt to brush the dirt off of his breeches and strengthen his shirt. He might have even tried to control his unruly brown hair if he didn't think it entirely impossible.

Proclaiming himself ready, George leaned closer to set his hands on the door, but it swung open underneath his palms before he could even push. Stumbling forward, he narrowly missed colliding with a scrawny figure exiting the inn. Trying to steady himself, he grasped at the doorframe.

"What are ye doin'?" a scratchy voice demanded.

Startled, George almost let go and struggled to keep his balance.

"Jumpy little thing, ain't ye?" George narrowed his eyes at the speaker. Tall and wiry, the man-probably a thief if he was coming out of the Dancing Dove- had yellow colored eyes that slightly bugged out of his face. His ruddy chin and cheeks were covered in patches of gray, blonde, and mud brown stubble. He raised both eyebrows at George, making him look even crazier than before. "What are ye doin' outside th' Dove?" His voice was dripping with suspicion and his hands slid underneath his sleeves, probably to grasp at hidden daggers.

George lifted his chin defiantly. "I'm here to see One Eye." He _hated _to be called little.

The man studied him for a moment longer before finally deciding he told the truth. He smirked, teeth chipped and missing. "What are ye waitin' for then?"

Unnerved but determined, George let go of the doorframe and strode into the inn. The man's raspy laughter was soon swallowed up by the noises of the Dove. Even though it was early in the afternoon the main room was almost full.

He walked around slowly, searching for One Eye and trying not to get distracted. When he completed his second round and One Eye was still nowhere to be found, he slipped into an empty chair directly across from the door. This way, as soon as One Eye walked in, he would see him.

George sat there for a while, watching a game of dagger throwing. There were three different colored concentric circles painted on the wall. Men would stand twenty paces away and throw daggers, trying to get them in the center. As they concentrated, George looked on enviously. It looked like _fun_, but the only knives he had ever handled had been the carving knives in his kitchen, and even then he had to swipe them out from under his ma's nose.

"Here, lad," a kind voice said as a frosty tankard was set on the table in front of him.

George looked up guiltily. "I don't have any coin." He hadn't thought to bring any money.

The man grinned. Curly brown hair and alert blue eyes, he had an aura of kindness about him. "It's on th' house. I'm the barkeep," he explained. "Th' names Solom."

"George Cooper," George replied instinctively. "But-"

Solom laughed. "Don't worry lad, it's lemonade."

Cheeks flaming, he reached out for the tankard an took a sip. While the dark Dove was cooler than outside, it was still warm and stifling in the summer weather. The lemonade was cold and chilled his insides as he swallowed. Delicious.

Solom waved, and George watched him walk back behind the bar. He took another sip from the tankard. Was Solom a thief? He seemed nice, just as One Eye did. Perhaps not all thieves were the cruel, heartless men that his ma had made them out to be? And even if they were, was that so bad? From what he had seen so far of the thieving lifestyle, it seemed like a lot of fun. At least more fun than running around the Lower City by himself.

His musings were interrupted when he Sensed someone walking up behind him. He set down his drink and closed his eyes. A big blobby shape. Squinting, he concentrated harder. Something tall. A man... One Eye! George excitedly turned around, calling, "One Eye! I was wonderin' when ye'd finally get here!"

The gray-eyed thief grinned. "Nice t' see ye came so soon." He sat down in the chair across from George. Instantly all of George's insecurities were put to rest- his Sight let him know that the man really was glad to see him. "I hope ye weren't waiting too long," One Eye remarked.

Shaking his head, George crossed his fingers under the table. "Not too long," he lied.

"Good." One Eye leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, careful to avoid the half-empty tankard. "How would ye like to have some fun?"

Intrigued, George found himself scooting his chair closer. "What kind of fun?"

One Eye paused before he answered, and the feeling of anticipation mounted. Finally he took in a deep breath before asking carefully, "What say I teach ye how t' thieve?"

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**A/N:** Hope you enjoyed part 5. Let me know what you think by reviewing and such. I've already started part 6 and I'll try to get it out as soon as possible. This part was mostly plot filling, but it was getting too long so I didn't want to start writing the actual thief lessons (which are coming..whee!)

So..that's about it. Review and what not. :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary:** The story of how George Cooper became the King of the Thieves, starting when he's eleven.

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They exited the Dancing Dove through a side door that George hadn't noticed the night before.

"In a place like th' Dove, it pays t' have more than a few exits," One Eye clarified in response to George's look and the boy nodded.

Outside, the sun was high over the roofs of the Lower City, nearly blinding after the dark inn. It took George a while to blink away the black spots that littered his vision.

"Are you really going to teach me to thieve?" George couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "Like the lock pickin' you were doing last night?" Learning to pick locks appealed to him; it was a challenge and a fun sounding one at that.

One Eye grinned at his eagerness. "No lock picks just yet- too advanced. I was thinkin' we'd start ye out with pickin' pockets." When he saw that George approved of the idea, he continued. "Pickin' pockets is tricky. Ye must think of yer hand as weightless. It can't touchn anythin' but what yer stealin'- the tiniest tug can warn yer mark of what yer doin'."

He held up a round black button, and George gave a start of recognition. On the way to the Dancing Dove, a button had popped off his breeches when he hopped over a fence. He'd put the button in his pocket for his ma to sew on later. He felt around his breeches, and his fingers closed on empty air. "How'd you…? When did…? I didn't even…"

One Eye handed back the button. "Light fingers," he reminded him. "It takes a lot of control, but I've got faith in ye."

Making a wide sweeping gesture with his hand, he indicated the busy street in front of them. "Pick a mark, and try t' pick their pockets. I don't expect ye to get anythin', just work on control. In, out." He leaned against a stall selling spices. "I'll watch here."

George eyed the sea of people with consideration; if One Eye thought he could do it, then he would.

Wading into the crowd, he noticed a woman with dark brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She seemed very involved in a list she was reading- George couldn't see her face because she was hunched over inspecting it.

He cracked his knuckles once, then reached out. His fingertips grazed the scratchy wool of her dress, and slipped into the purse hanging from her belt. The woman took a quick step to the left that George wasn't expecting and he lurched forward, leaning all of his weight on the belt purse.

As he straightened up and hurried to remove his hand, the woman's head whirled around like an owl's, and George stared up at a familiar pair of level brown eyes with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"George Cooper! Was that you? I thought someone was trying to make off with my coins…" Her voice was annoyed and tinted with suspicion.

Mistress Kuri. The sharp healing woman often helped out his ma.

"Oh, no thief," he told her with an attempt at a grin. "I was tuggin' at your dress to get your attention."

Sufficiently soothed, and just a bit charmed, Mistress Kuri smiled back at him. "Why did you want my attention?"

His tongue went dry, and his brain scrambled for a lie. Nothing was coming, and his palms felt damp.

"Is there something wrong with Eleni?" she prompted.

"No, she's taking caring of Cherno, Mistress Kaulao's son." George saw his chance and took it, making his voice forlorn and his eyes sorrowful. It wasn't as difficult as it should have been. "She'll be gone for a while."

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "George, if you'd ever care for a cup of tea and a hot meal, my door is always open."

He nodded his thanks, and she rested a warm hand on his shoulder before turning to continue on her way.

One Eye was at his side in seconds. "Lad, I know I didn't give ye much instruction, but its best not t' try and steal from someone ye know yer first time." His gray eyes danced with amusement.

George flushed. "She's a friend of my ma's," he explained.

The thief laughed, loud and deep. "That's even worse!"

George _had_ to smile in response. He was still embarrassed that his first attempt at stealing had gone so horribly wrong, but the important thing to him was that One Eye wasn't angry.

One Eye clasped an arm around George's shoulders, leading him back down the busy street. "I'm gonna have t' teach ye tact. Come on, I'll go with ye this time."

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They worked for the rest of the afternoon, until the crowds thinned and what they were doing became too noticeable. "Pickin' pockets is easiest in th' busy areas," One Eye told him, pressing the importance of a thief's surroundings.

George had managed to swipe the contents of one belt purse, which sadly only contained one copper coin, but it had taken him ages. One notable incident occurred after an hour into the lesson: he had accidentally pinched a lady's bottom while trying to get at her purse, and One Eye had been slapped clear across the face.

"Enough for today, but I expect ye t' keep practicin'," One Eye announced on their way back to the Dancing Dove. "By th' looks of it, yer never goin' to let loose of that coin," he teased.

George had been admiring the copper coin in the dying sunlight. It was the most money he had ever held, money that was all his, and not his ma's hard work. He had earned this.

He rolled the coin across his palm while he thought. "How much is an ale at the Dove?"

One Eye raised an eyebrow. "Thinkin' of startin' t' drink?"

George shook his head- he had gotten a whiff of ale the night before, and he planned to stick with lemonade for a while. "No. I want to buy you a drink when we get there."

The thief paused, an odd look in his eyes. "But it took ye hours to get that money."

George shrugged, uncomfortable.

"Well, ta lad. How about ye buy me an ale, and I'll buy yer lemonade. Then I'll teach you how t' play dice."

One Eye pushed open the door to the Dove, and ushered George inside. The inn was already beginning to feel like home.

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**A/N:** Yeah, I realize this chapter is a looong time coming, and I'm sorry. I'm getting back into Tammy fic, and I love George as much as ever. Please review and tell me what you think, I promise I'm not going to let this story die.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary:** An accomplishment, a fight, and a secret.

**A/N:**The thieves in this chapter are completely made up, but I'll see if you can guess who the noble George robbed is. ;)

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The Cooper house stood empty for the days that followed. Despite Mistress Kaulao's best attempts, Cherno's illness had spread to both his brother and the boy next door. Eleni came home only to replenish her supplies and catch a few hours of sleep- she was desperately trying to prevent an epidemic.

As for George, he spent his mornings on the streets, refining his techniques and amassing an odd stash of stolen goods which he hid beneath his pillow- a copper noble, small mirrors from belt purses, shopping lists. If it was in a cloak pocket, he took it.

At night, he ate dinners at the Dancing Dove, and One Eye introduced him to his companions- Viven, a picklock with eyes that were two different colors; Oric, a gambler with a bald head that shined in the candlelight; Karce, a thief who worked down by the docks of Port Caynn and could sing the bawdiest songs; Garrick, a man with a foul mouth who had escaped the clutches of my lord Provost three times. It made for an interesting time, and often George didn't start for home until the sun was just rising over the horizon.

It was a late June day when the routine was broken. George was on his way to the Dancing Dove, practically tripping over his feet in excitement (though he did actually trip over his feet at one street corner, but it was contributed to broken pavement and not his overwhelming abundance of joy). For the first time, he had successfully stolen from a noble. A noble! It was an elder man with brown hair, dressed in an exquisite tunic that looked as if it cost more than George's home. It was harder to steal from nobles than from merchants and commoners, One Eye had told him. Nobles were notorious for their iron grip on their money.

But it didn't matter how tightly they tied their purse strings, how determined their watch on their coin was- George had stolen five gold nobles out from under the nose of a duke, or a lord, or an earl!

He ran the last few feet to the Dove, pushing open the door with gusto. When he had taken a few steps inside, however, he stopped as if he had run into a solid wall. The inn was eerily silent and George could hear nothing but heavy, labored breathing.

"What is going on-" he started to ask Beryl, a highwayman with a biting sense of humor.

The man jabbed a silencing elbow into George's stomach, shaking his head and putting a finger to his lips. Quiet. He jerked his head towards the center of the room and George realized the thieves and their ladies had formed a circle around a pair of fighting men.

Barefoot and shirts stained with sweat, the men paced around each other, daggers flashing. George recognized one of the fighters- short dirty blonde hair, intensely focused blue eyes, and a black eardrop- it was Talek. The other man was an unknown. Tall and well-muscled, he had a full red beard and moved with a loping grace. They seemed to be well matched at first, but George could See the bigger man was tiring.

He was right, and in a moment Talek backed the redhead against a table, where he stumbled and never regained his balance; Talek swiftly slit the man's throat.

Without lowering his dagger, he spun around to face the crowd, blood dripping from a wound on his thigh. "Does anyone else think they can rule better? Speak now, while ye have a chance. I won't take kindly to it later."

When no one made a sound, he hobbled over to a table in front of the great stone hearth, head held high. He lowered himself into a chair at the end of the table, and George couldn't help but think he looked like a king on a throne.

As if his sitting was a sign, the Dove jumped into activity. A woman hurried over to clean and bandage Talek's wound, and a few thieves drifted towards him.

George shook his head and tried to get his thoughts straight. He needed to talk to One Eye.

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"George! Did ye just get here?" One Eye sat down in a chair opposite George's; he had claimed their normal table and waited for the thief to arrive.

"No."

One Eye raised an eyebrow at the short response, and motioned for a passing barmaid to fetch him an ale. "So, how's th' thievin' goin'?"

"They don't stop everything for most fights," George blurted out. "That fight wasn't normal, and I want to know why."

Letting out a sigh, One Eye scratched at the back of his neck. "I told ye I couldn't tell ye yet," he said reproachfully.

"I know, but it's different now," the boy argued. "I stole from a noble today, I eat dinner here, I thought…" George didn't want to admit it, but he had thought he _belonged_ at the Dancing Dove, with the thieves. One Eye was purposefully distancing himself like his Ma had done accidentally.

"Ye stole from a noble?" One Eye grinned, his gray eyes shining with pride. "Not th' time for praise though, I suppose. Yer progressin' quicker than I expected."

George leaned forward expectantly as One Eye scrutinized him.

"I think it is time ye learned. Talek doesn't know ye like I do, I'll explain it t' him."

"Why would Talek care if you told me?" George asked, feeling like he was standing on the edge of something big.

"Because Talek cares about everything that happens in th' Dove. He's the king, the ruler of the thieves. I belong t' his court, and I want ye t' belong too."

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**A/N:** Update. I know it wasn't much, but I'm still writing. Review and let me know what you guys think. :)


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